Reflection of Passion
by YouThinkYouNoeMe
Summary: John's blockbuster success takes a toll on his relationship... CharactersxPairings: Trish StratusxJohn Cena, Stacy KeiblerxChris Jericho, LitaxEdge, Randy Orton, Christian, others?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Reflection of Passion**

Rating: -R-

Warnings: Strong Language, Some Sexual Content  
  
**Characters/Pairings: Trish Stratus/John Cena, Stacy Keibler/Chris Jericho, Randy Orton,Lita/Edge, Christian,others?**

Summary: John's blockbuster successtakesa heavy toll on his relationship...

Disclaimer: Obviously, I own no one. All characters are property of WWE and themselves.

Notes: John and Stacy are brother and sister in this story. (This is actually a sequel to 'I Won't Be Ignored', but you don't necessarily have to have read that fic in order to follow this one). Title comes from the song 'Just Another Day' by John Cena and Trademarc. Feedback is highly appreciated.

**Chapter 1**  
"John, you have to give that back to me… John, I'm serious! Give me back my engagement ring."

John Cena stuffed the diamond ring in his pocket, firmly shaking his head. His gaze remained stiff at the blonde woman pouted.

"No way," he denied her, pursing his lips together. "You ain't gettin' this baby back."

Stacy's eyebrow shot up curiously. From John's vacant expression, it was impossible to tell if he was really mad, or just playing around. She couldn't imagine why he reacted the way he did to the news. Everyone else was elated.

"And just what am I supposed to do when Chris notices I'm not wearing it?" she challenged, placing a frustrated hand on her hip.

"Tell him you can't marry him," John stated bluntly.

Stacy hissed, shaking her head furiously. John had loved her being with Chris from the day they got together. Now, because he proposed, John was suddenly stealing jewelry in protest.

"Nice try, Cena," she said, extending her arm to him again. "Now, gimme my fuckin' ring before someone gets hurt."

Again he shook his head, and Stacy groaned. She grabbed at his arm, but he swatted her away again. Then, her brown eyes turned angry and she punched him in the gut, earning a groan from the WWE Champion. He slapped her wrist, and a moment later, they were wrestling for possession of Stacy's ring.

"Hand over the diamond."

The sound of a very familiar voice caused John to release the arm lock he had on her. He caught Stacy before she could stumble, but he held the ring tightly in his hands. A bashful grin covered his face, but it faded when he noticed Trish giving him The Look. It was a move she rarely pulled out of her arsenal, but when she used it, everyone knew she meant business. It had him worried.

Stacy, he could handle. He was not so sure about a Look-giving Trish Stratus. Tossing her platinum blonde locks over her shoulder, Trish stood beside Stacy, her hand resting on the younger woman's shoulder.

"The ring," she instructed, gesturing to his fist with her free hand. "Pretty sure it belongs to her."

John's gaze fell, and kicked the floor with the tip of his sneaker. His death grip on Stacy's ring loosened, but he did not give it up.

"But Triiish," he whined, though he knew his case was hopeless.

"Grow up," she teased with a smile. "Let the ring go."

John sighed loudly. He opened his hand, staring at the flashy diamond in his palm. This just wasn't right. But he knew if held onto the ring for even a minute longer, he would suffer dire consequences. He finally gave him, a very unhappy look on his face as he shoved the ring back into Stacy's hand.

Stacy squealed with delight, sliding the ring back onto her finger. She turned to Trish, sending her a gracious look. Trish simply nodded, offering her friend a tiny smile. John eyed the women in silence, rolling his eyes slightly. Then, he turned away from them, stomping out of the bar in a huff. Trish just laughed, but Stacy's reaction was more serious. Concern flooded her features as she watched her brother storm off.

She looked at Trish, "Should I be worried about this?"

Trish put a hand up, shaking her head. There was no reason she should have to worry about John's pouting while she was celebrating.

"Not at all," she insisted, grabbing Stacy's hand. "You go party. I'll talk to the drama queen." Stacy giggled at the comparison, and then nodded. Trish watched as she hustled off. "Oh, and congratulations!"

Once Stacy made herself comfortable at the bar where Chris, Christian and Victoria had gathered with some others, Trish tore her gaze away. Then, she headed out the front door, where John had exited. She found him as soon as she stepped outside, leaned up against the front of the building. His eyes fixed on her, and she pouted at him.

"Waiting for me?" she asked, raising a brow.

John nodded, pushing himself off the wall. He silently held his arm out to her, waiting for her to link hers with his. He stepped away from the building. After a long silence, Trish sensed that he was not planning to speak.

"She's gotta grow up someday, John," she told him. Her tone was much more soothing than it had been inside.

He exhaled heavily as he led her through the parking lot.

"She's not ready for this. I don't want Chris rushin' her into things," he said uneasily. "He's my boy and all, but that's my baby sister he's foolin' around wit."

"They're far past the foolin' around stage," Trish argued. "You're protective, and that's cool. But she's 25 years old… you can't over her like she's 17. Besides, you know Chris is madly in love with her…"

"Exactly," John retorted. "I don't want either of them blinded into a decision they're gonna regret. I know I'm wound up about it, but even still, I think it's too soon."

Trish laughed, "They've been together longer than we have, and you're always tellin' me how that feels like forever." She paused, glancing up at him. "You should be happy for her, John. Be happy that _she's_ happy."

He stopped walking, pulling his arm from hers. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and tilted his head back, staring up at the dark sky. Breathing deeply, he took a few steps away from her.

"Hey, if she's truly happy bein' Mrs. Jerky, then I'm all for it. It's just that I want her to be sure she's really happy," he spoke, mentally counting stars. "She always said she never wanted to be the housewife who gave up her career to have babies and a husband she'd see once a week."

From behind him, Trish rolled her eyes. He was so melodramatic. If he wasn't so masculine in other ways, she'd swear he was a woman… or at least gay.

"You're jumping way ahead of yourself, babe. They haven't even discussed a wedding date yet," she reminded him. "And anyway, that 'don't wanna jeopardize my career for marriage' sentiment is a bullshit line women tell themselves because they haven't met the man they want to settle down with."

Though he didn't call her on it, Trish's statement made him curious. She constantly fed him that very same line she just said was bogus. He bit his lip thoughtfully.

"I overreacted in there," he conceded. "I just worry about her, ya know? I seen her wit one too many rejects in the past."

Trish nodded, the smile returning to her face. She walked over to him, approaching him from behind and putting her arms around him. Resting her chin on his back, she stared at the Boston Red Sox logo on the hat which rested backwards on his head.

"I know," she agreed, hugging him tightly.

John sighed, shifting his gaze around the empty lot. He removed his hands from his pockets and took hold of hers. She dropped them to his sides, and he held them there, while the slightest breeze hit and cooled the sweat on his face.

"Whaddya think Trish, am I horrible for actin' like that?" he asked quietly, lowering his head. He was starting to realize how ridiculous he must have looked wrestling Stacy in the bar.

"You're a good brother," Trish replied with a lazy smile. "Slightly psychotic, but still good."

John laughed, shaking his head. He glanced down at his Rolex, his eyes widening as he realized how late it was. He was doing an appearance on a radio show at 8:30 the next morning.

"Come on girl, lets get outta here," he suggested, turning to face her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Full scale album promotion starts tomorrow. I wanna get busy one night before the schedule gets bananas."

Trish giggled, "Don't you mean, get in one busy night before the schedule gets bananas?"

"I don't care how ya word it, s'long as it involves you and me getting' naked," he winked at her.

Trish smiled as her cheeks warmed. Almost an entire year later, and he could still make her blush. She turned in the direction of the car, dragging him along with her.

"Don't hafta ask me twice."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked the first chapter. Sorry there was such a delay in getting the next chapter up, but if you read Without The Mask I tried to let everyone know that with school and everything, my updates are gonna be a little more scarce then they were. I am very excited about this story though, so I'll try to update as often as I can. Let me know what you think!**

Chapter 2  
"Get her and her damn ring out of my face!"

Stacy giggled, and Trish rolled her eyes. Two people in 24 hours who had a serious problem with the leggy blonde's engagement. She wedged herself between the two ladies, playing referee as she pushed them apart.

"I'll tell you what I told my equally bitter boyfriend. Smile and be happy," she said cheerily, sending her a toothy grin.

Lita scowled as she backed away. Trish was far too chipper about the whole thing. It wasn't that she was not happy for Stacy. The prospect of one of her closest friends getting married to a man who adored her was exciting. But at the moment - and given her current situation - she was not in the least it interested in having a diamond ring waved in her face.

"I'm sorry, Stace," the redhead apologized genuinely. She shook her head, "I just don't like being reminded of how pathetic my life is."

Trish frowned, taking a hold of her hand. She gave it a consoling squeeze, shaking her head also.

"Oh, shut up. Your life is not pathetic," she quipped, rolling her eyes slightly.

Lita's brow raised, "Oh yeah? She's 25, gettin' married to the perfect man. I'm 30, and currently involved in the most sordid love triangle since Angelina screwed up Brad and Jen." She paused to pout, letting go of Trish's hand. "That, my friends, is quite fuckin' pathetic."

Stacy stopped admiring her ring, her gaze filling with concern as she eyed her friend curiously. Trish's gaze matched hers, and they each placed a hand on either of her shoulders.

Lita's love life had become rather dramatic over the past months. When Rob Van Dam left for Smackdown a year before, the strain of being apart became too much for them to handle. They eventually had to break up, and Lita found herself rebounding with an ex by the name of Matt Hardy. But rekindling her old romance with the older Hardy brother did not make her any happier. In fact, their relationship was even more miserable the second time around.

As her relationship with Matt began to crumble, she lost faith in their partnership. Once he went out of action with a knee injury, she lost hope. And somehow, during the midst of all the drama… she fell in love. Lita fell hard, for the last man she expected. And when Edge confessed that he'd harbored an intense crush on her for years, it was impossible for her to resist. She finally found a man who made her feel happy, and who made her feel complete.

…Only problem was, she didn't tell Matt about their relationship.

Of course, when Matt did find out about the affair, the shit hit the fan. For months now, she had been barraged with accusations, interrogations, and a whole lot of pressure; from management, from the fans, from Edge and Matt. The anxiety caused by Matt leaking news of the ordeal to the fans via his website took its toll on her new relationship with Edge. Their red-hot affair cooled, but the flames had not completely burned out. They were slowly trying to make things work.

"Cheer up," Stacy said after a long silence. "It'll get better. Besides, you've got us no matter what. We're here for you."

"Yeah," Trish gave her an assuring nod. "We're like the best boyfriend you can have… minus the sex, of course."

Lita's eyes filled with amusement, and her sour demeanor quickly faded. She tossed her head back, her shoulders shaking as she succumbed to laughter. She shook her head, pushing the two girls away.

"Okay, now this is just fuckin' weird," she said. "Time for a subject change." She eyed the two women steadily, debating over who she should shift the attention to. Stacy would undoubtedly turn any questions asked into a discussion about the multi-carated rock on her finger. Her eyes settled on Trish. "Speaking of boyfriends and no sex," she smirked, a twinkle in her hazel eyes, "do you miss yours yet? This is the first I've seen you apart in months."

"He's downtown doing an appearance, I'm not pining over him just yet," Trish replied with a giggle. "And as for the outrageous 'no sex' comment, you must be forgetting that my boyfriend is the easiest man alive. Sex is not something our relationship is lacking."

"Yet," Lita responded quickly. She glanced over her shoulder, estimating the distance between herself and the couch. Without another word, she leapt onto it, sinking into the cushion.

Trish raised an eyebrow, sending each woman a confused look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"She's right, Trish," Stacy answered for her. She bit her lip before continuing, "The busier John gets, the less time he'll have for everything."

"And the less time he has to eat and sleep, the less energy he'll have. That's energy that _would_ be driving the easiest man alive to keep you satisfied," Lita added.

Trish backed away, sending them looks of disbelief. She wondered how the conversation managed to turn on her so quickly. So much for that positive energy Stacy was always rambling about.

"What is this, 'make Trish feel like shit' day?" she quipped curiously. "'Cause to me it sounds like you're sayin' that my relationship is doomed."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Lita defended herself honestly. "Just an observation. I know what a busy schedule does to a relationship – I just want you to be careful."

Stacy nodded in agreement. She headed to the armchair opposite from Lita, taking a seat as well.

"Just don't let John get so far in the music thing that he forgets what you two have," Stacy said.

Trish shook her head, unable to prevent a snort of laughter. "I don't envision him selling millions and going on a world tour if that's what you're talkin' about." She had faith in John, but she knew his talent would only take him so far.

"I don't think that'll happen, but it doesn't hurt to watch out. Sometimes having a passion for something blinds you, ya know?" she replied.

Trish nodded, but said nothing. She and John had been having this talk for months. He vowed multiple times over not to let his music career interfere with their relationship.

"Doesn't matter," she spoke finally. "I'll complain, but we'll get through it. We get through everything."

* * *

"I'm tellin' ya man, this shit is crazy," John called into his cell phone as he hopped into the backseat of a limo. Having just dodged another sea of loud fans, he let go of his ear, finally able to hear the other line. He breathed deeply, "These people are fuckin' whacked."

From the other end, Marc laughed. He had been along John's side, laughing, listening, and rapping with him from day one. Seeing his cousin's reactions to his rising success was surprisingly amusing.

"You're the whacked one," he said. "These people line up to see you, and you giddier than they are."

John couldn't disagree. There was nothing in the world that got him more pumped up then an autograph session. Performing in the ring in front of thousands was a dream, but it didn't touch the feelings he had leaving an in-store. The intimacy of having a one on one conversation with a fan – someone who actually _paid_ to see him – was amazing, and slightly mind-boggling.

After a twenty minute radio interview, and a two hour signing, John was more psyched than ever about his future.

"People want to hear us, man. They want the CD – _our _CD. Isn't that the weirdest thing you've ever heard?" he asked incredulously.

"No, it's not," Marc feigned a groan. "One day you're gonna have to grow up and admit you're famous. People are gonna be askin' for your autograph for a long time."

John's mouth hung open in awe. You'd think after doing his job for three years, he'd get used to it. But the truth was, he still got a little confused when people stopped him on the street. A "who me?" was not uncommon when girls started screaming his name. He shook his head, focusing back on business.

"You know once the album drops I want you on signings wit' me," he said. "This disc is as much yours as it is mine."

"Yeah, you can _almost_ see my name on the CD cover!" Mark replied with a wholehearted laugh. From the second John showed him the cover design, he took every chance he got to complain about the miniscule size of his name. It was all good-natured, though. He didn't expect to be the main attraction of a WWE-produced CD.

"Sorry bro, but Tha Trademarc just isn't on par wit' Da Franchise," he teased, reclining back in his seat. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as the adrenaline finally started to wear off. "But seriously, you gotta come out with me once this drops. It won't feel right without you."

"All right, Jesus. Don't get all fuckin' emotional on me. I'll do it… I need some excitement in my life," Marc replied.

John smiled to himself, resting his head back. He stared up at the roof of the limo, yawning again.

"You only been at this for a day and you already wiped out?" Marc asked him after a brief silence.

"Getting three hours of sleep is kickin' me in the ass now," John admitted. He hoped they reached the arena soon, or he would probably fall asleep.

Marc nodded from his end of the line, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. If John was tired after one long day, he couldn't wait to see how he felt in another month or two.

"I bet," he agreed. "And it's only gonna get crazier."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Those of you who read my other stories have probably noticed that I've been updating lately. Hopefully the trend will continue, and hopefully you'll enjoy this story as well. Remember, reviews make the pen write faster! P**

Chapter 3  
The thought of sleeping on a soft, warm mattress propelled John up the stairs of the hotel. His feet drug through the hallway as he trudged toward his room. Exhaustion was an understatement. It had been an exceptionally long day. Radio interview at 7:00. Raw magazine photoshoot at 8:30. Two seperate autograph signings. A house show. Newspaper interviews.

And at 6:00AM tomorrow, it started all over again.

When he finally reached his hotel room, he pushed through the door, yawning loudly. A small smile touched his lips as he noticed Trish, sprawled out on the bed. She returned his smile, rising from her position.

"Hey stranger," she said, patting the empty space beside her.

John gladly collapsed next to her, his head sinking into the pillow. He lifted his head and leaned over to press a full kiss to her lips. Trish hovered over him, tracing a finger across the dark circles under his eye.

"You look tired, baby," she murmured, her hand moving up to run through his hair.

John nodded pitifully, "And sore." His eyes drifted closed, and he relished in the feeling of sleep approaching him.

"Don't you pass out on me," Trish said, shaking him lightly. "I haven't seen you all day." He groaned, brushing her hand off. "Come on... let me make you feel better..."

The seductive tone in her voice drew John's eyes open. He eyed her weakly. When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. Moving on top of him, Trish kissed him hungrily. His body responded instantly. His muscles stiffened, his fingers tangled in her hair, his tongue jutted out to meet hers.

His mind was not as quick to react. His brain screamed at him, desperate for sleep.

"Trish," he mumbled into her lips. "Trish, come on. I'm fuckin' exhausted. I need sleep."

Trish giggled, pressing her lips to his again. "You'll sleep..." she assured him between kisses. "...as soon as I'm done with you."

John sighed, allowing their kiss to deepen again. When Trish rolled to her back and pulled him on top of her, he broke away.

"Seriously babe, not now," he begged her, his body falling limp on hers.

Trish frowned, pushing him off of her. It was so unlike him to shrug her off like that, no matter how tired he was. Confused and concerned, her eyebrow raised.

"You okay?" she asked, resting on her elbow.

He nodded, his eyes closing again, "Just tired. Sore. Wanna go to bed."

With a soft sigh, she complied. Resting back onto her own pillow, Trish stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't such a big deal, she supposed. After all, he did have an extremely long day. And he'd be back on the go tomorrow. He needed rest.

_"The busier John gets, the less time he'll have for everything..."_

Trish's eyes shot open. She shook her head quickly, willing Stacy's voice out of her head. It wasn't going to happen. They're relationship was better then ever. With a small smile, she closed her eyes again. Sleep didn't sound so bad anyway.

_"And the less time he has to eat and sleep, the less energy he'll have. That's energy that would be driving the easiest man alive to keep you satisfied..."_

She groaned, pulling the pillow from under her head and covering her ears. She could just see Lita staring at her solemnly. Other couples might struggle through something like this, but not them. Not John Cena and Trish Stratus. They withstood everything. They were indestructible.

_"I know what a busy schedule does to a relationship... I just want you to be careful..."_

Enough. Trish tossed her pillow to the side, springing into an upright position. She grabbed John's solid bicep, shaking him to consciousness.

"What?" he asked. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"Stacy and Lita said the funniest thing the other day," she quipped, looking down at him. Her completely unamused tone told him she felt otherwise. He knew this probably wouldn't be good, so he forced himself to sit up. He leaned against the headboard and glanced over, encouraging her to continue. "They seem to think that with your busy schedule you're going to have no time left for me..."

John swallowed hard. He knew that no matter what he said, this was not going to end well. Exhaling tiredly, he turned towards her, resting a hand on her knee.

"Sweetheart, nothin's gonna happen to us," he assured her with a smile. "It's gettin' hectic, but I can handle it. Every spare moment I have, I'm spendin' it with you."

He waited for a response, a smile... anything to see that she understood. But her gaze remained uncertain. She placed her hand on top of his, but John couldn't help but notice her hesitance in doing so. She inhaled sharply.

"Is it gonna be like this every time?" she questioned him, gesturing to him. "I mean, you know I support you with this, but I need to _see_ you. You passing out on the couch or in bed every day isn't gonna cut it for me."

"Whadd'ya want me to do, Trish? I can't cut back now, my album drops in 3 weeks. This is big," he told her. A slight twinge went off in his temple, and he grimaced. "Come on, babe, we talked about this..."

Her arms crossed in front of her, and Trish frowned. She knew he was right. But at the moment, she was letting her immaturity get the best of her. John was her boyfriend and she wanted to be with him, in every sense of the term.

"I know we did. It's just... we used to be together every night... we used to go _out_, we used to see our friends. I stay home every night waiting to see you, and then when I do you can't even devote an hour to me? To us? I haven't gone to a bar or a club in two weeks," she pouted, her eyes widening sadly.

Maybe it was the exhaustion getting the best of him, but John found himself dangerously close to pissed off. He couldn't help but think Trish was being more than a little selfish. He rolled his eyes, closing them again.

"No one's stopping you from goin' out, Trish," he mumbled, turning his back to her.

She stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Did that really just happen? Before she could question him or even think of a comeback, he was asleep. Anger flickered through her dark eyes, and her bottom lip stuck out even further.

"Fine."

With a stomp, she rose from the bed and headed for the closet, pulling out a change of clothes and shoes. After a quick change and a touch-up of her makeup, Trish bounded out the door, heading out solo for the first time in months...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, I'm glad to see you're still somewhat into the story! I tried to throw a little bit of a wrench into the plot with this chapter... we'll see what you think about it. Review, review, review! P**

**Chapter 4**  
For the first time that night, a brilliant grin flashed across Trish's face. Laughter bubbled up from her stomach as she placed a hand over her ribcage, fighting for breath. It had been weeks since she spent time out with Lita - or any of her friends for that matter - without John by her side. She'd almost forgotten how hilarious her fiery friend was. She took another sip of her beer, the glass bottle clanking against the smooth surface of the bar as she placed it down.

"Where the hell's Stacy at?" Trish asked, still beaming. "She's gotta hear you do that impression..."

Lita's smile flattened as she glanced over her shoulder, gazing out into the crowded mass.

"Off with Price Charming, of course," she quipped. "If I didn't love them so much, I'd choke them. Hard."

A giggle slipped unintentionally from Trish's throat. She too surveyed the room, and her eyes soon landed on the couple who were, as usual, connected at the hip. Any other night, their very public displays of affection would not bother her in the least. But tonight, she was boyfriend-less, and the most fractional bit of jealousy twinged in her. She shook her head, turning back to her drink.

"I hate my life," she muttered jokingly, taking a long sip. Her comment drew back the redhead's attention.

"Don't you start that shit with me," Lita replied, wagging a warning finger at Trish. "You're all pissy 'cause your boyfriend wouldn't have sex with you, _once_. I'm not even sure that the guy I'm having sex with is even my boyfriend."

Trish nodded, her head bowing slightly. Things could be much worse. She knew she should respect how hard he was working and accept the fact that she would have to make some sacrifices. It was just that whenever she actually sat and thought about their relationship, her friends' warnings blared through her head.

"Part of me knows that, Lita. That I'm being ridiculous. But then there's this paranoid side of me, it keeps nagging me. And maybe it has reason. Maybe it's really not that ridiculous at all..." she babbled, her eyes becoming frantic.

Lita sent her a look that was half amused, half scared.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" she asked incredulously.

Trish shrugged, gripping her beer tightly.

"I don't even know. It's just... I keep thinkin' about what you said the other day. About our relationship suffering," she explained.

"Oh, Trish, don't think like that," Lita assured her with a small, but sincere, smile. "I'm bitter. You can't take anything I say seriously."

Trish was skeptical. Sure, Lita's current romantic situation was a mess, but that only further proved the point. She had a keen eye for trouble in paradise.

"What if you were right?" she asked.

"I'm not right, Trish. I'm not right about much of anything these days," Lita contested, her lips curling downward.

Trish nodded. She was still concerned, but at the moment she desperately wanted to change the subject. The mental dissection of her relationship had to stop, for now.

"Where's Edge?" she inquired, ignoring the look of confusion sent her way. She knew her transition to the matter was far from smooth, but she was through discussing John and was genuinely curious. Lita's puzzled gaze soon turned icy.

"Don't know, don't fuckin' care," she spat. Her voice dripped with venom, but her eyes told another story. The hazel orbs filled with a sadness Trish hadn't seen in her friend in a long time. She chewed her lip, placing a manicured hand over Lita's.

"Have you tried just talking to him?" Trish asked. She was met with a blank stare. "You're obviously not happy. Maybe you should tell _him_ that, instead of bitchin' and whinin' to us all the time."

Lita couldn't contain a scoff. She laughed ruefully, gulping her drink.

"Me and Edge, our relationship isn't much for talking," she reminded her.

Trish frowned, a mixture of emotions hitting her. She sympathized with her friend for getting herself into such a predicament. But moreover, a small sensationof anger surged through her when she thought of Edge, whose indecisiveness caused Lita far too much grief.

"No offense, Li, but if you two can't spend your time doin' anything but fucking each other, then you're not in a relationship," she said firmly.

"No shit," came the grunted reply. Her eyes fixated on the bar top, Lita hastily downed the rest of her beer. When she turned her head and noticed Trish's expectant stare, she shrugged defeatedly.

Trish sighed, tilting her head in the opposite direction. Her disheartened gaze was quickly replaced with surprise when she spotted him across the bar. Speak of the fuckin' devil...

He stood awkwardly across the room, one hand in his pocket while the other raked uncomfortably through his blonde locks. His eyes carefully examined the room. He was looking for somebody... maybe her.

It took less then a minute for Lita to follow Trish's wide-eyed gape and make the connection. Her eyes widened similarly, a lump instantly lodging in her throat. Not a moment later, he turned, locking eyes with the redhead. They stared at each other from across the crowded bar, and Trish could feel the intensity building.

"What do I do..." Lita muttered, tight-lipped. Her gaze was flat, though Trish could see the panic hidden in the depths of her hazel eyes.

Trish's gaze switched back and forth between Edge and Lita. After finally settling on Lita, she sighed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Go," she instructed, nodding her head in Edge's direction. Lita gazed at her with uncertainty, as though she were asking permission to leave Trish behind. The blonde woman nodded firmly, giving Lita's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

She watched in silence as Lita drifted off, slowly approaching her lover. Trish's gaze remained steady on the pair, who for a long moment simply stared at each other. They started to speak, tentatively. Trish wondered if she should approach the pair, to mediate their conversation. She ultimately decided against it, leaving the couple to sort out their own problems. A few minutes later, they exited the bar together.

Stacy and Chris had left awhile ago, shortly after they first spotted them. Once again, she was all alone.

Turning back to the bar, Trish ran her fingers up and down the now empty beer bottle. A sigh left her pouted lips as she leaned her weight onto the bar. Well, this was pathetic.

"Hey sweetheart, lookin' for some company?"

Trish bit back a sarcastic laugh. Though she had yet to turn around, she immediately felt sorry for the poor soul who spit such a line to her. She slowly spun her seat, prepared to let the guy have it... but when she realized who he was, she paused. A genuine smile appeared on her pretty face.

"I thought you were already spoken for, Orton," Trish said, cocking an eyebrow at the young superstar.

Randy flashed her a handsome smile, taking a step towards her. He slipped into Lita's recently vacated seat, joining Trish at the bar. He flagged down the bartender, ordering a drink for himself and another for her. As two opened bottles were placed down before them, he faced her.

"Where's the boyfriend?" he questioned, his gaze briefly searching the room.

"Asleep," Trish said plainly, taking a swig of her new beer. "He's been workin' himself to death lately..."

Randy eyed Trish curiously. Her tone was far from the optimistic Trish he knew.

"You don't sound too happy about that," he noted, his brow rising slightly. His illusive comment prompted her to shrug.

"I'm dealing with it," she said, her voice more nonchalant than he believed to be true. Then, her gaze fell to her feet, watching as they dangled beneath the bar stool. "It's not so bad, I guess. Just not used to bein' without him."

Randy nooded his head in agreement. He experienced that same thing every single week - each time he had to leave his fiancee at home. And regardless of how routine it had become, leaving her behind never got easier.

"Eventually you get used to the bouts of loneliness..." he commented wistfully, sipping his beer.

Trish raised an eyebrow, "That's pretty pessimistic of you, Orton. And I was so sure you'd find other ways to occupy your time." She finished the statement with a wink.

"The playboy days are over, Champ," he noted sadly, though his eyes lit up with a smile. "The only action I'm gettin' on the road nowadays is a phone call and a cold shower before bed."

"Poor baby," Trish cooed, shaking her head softly. Her anger towards John, which had since dwindled to a mere twinge, flared up in her momentarily. She would _not_ be taking cold showers every night. No way in hell. Sighing, she turned back to Randy, whose attention seemed to have drifted as well. "So, is this what you do now? Sit here and look all pitiful at the bar, waitin' for some chick to come feel sorry for you?"

"Well damn, woman, what's with all the hostility? If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone's feeling a little pitiful themselves," he said, his blue eyes locking on her. When her gaze fell to the floor, he frowned, wondering if he said something wrong. In the end, he gave up, tossing his hands in the air. "I'm just playin' with ya, Champ. No hard feelings."

Trish frowned as well, feeling guilty for the way she acted towards him. He was keeping her company, after all...

"Sorry about that pitiful comment," she said sincerely, directing her eyes back up to him. "I'm just gettin' that lonely bout, I guess."

"All good, Champ." He paused, reaching for his bottle and raising it towards the ceiling. "Lets toast... to being lonely and getting drunk..."

Trish smiled, clinking her glass together with Randy's. "To being lonely and getting drunk... and to bitchin' about our significant others behind their backs."

Randy laughed, "I gotta start hangin' with you more often..."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I know I haven't given much attention to John in the past couple chapters, this one included. But expect some good old John and Trish moments in the next chapter. And as always, thanks so much for the reviews!**

Chapter 5  
Randy Orton had seen a lot of women in his lifetime. He spent time with, had drinks with… done many _other _things with… women from all over the world. But he had never met a woman who held her liquor quite like Trish Stratus. He walked a few paces behind her, staring at her tiny form in amazement. After going drink for drink with him the entire night, he was surprised she was conscious, let alone walking upright. But Trish bounded ahead of him, heading towards the elevator.

"Most women I know'd be gettin' their stomach pumped after drinkin' like that," he called to her as she kicked her pace up to a jog. He sped up as well, stumbling a bit.

Trish tossed a proud grin over her shoulder at him.

"You should know me better then that, Orton," she replied. She pressed the elevator button and paused, hopping inside when the doors parted.

Randy followed her in, walking slowly as he felt his balance weakening. He selected a wall and leaned on it, resting his head back. Trish pressed the floor number, somehow recalling that they were staying on the same floor. She sauntered over to the wall opposite Randy, mimicking his position. As the elevator car began to move upward, Trish grabbed the handle bar behind her for support. She became acutely aware of how drunk she was, her eyes closing painfully.

As his own dizziness dissipated, Randy glanced at Trish, his brow raising. The slightest hint of concern filled his blue eyes. As the elevator car came to a half, he pushed himself from the wall, extending a hand to her.

"Need me to walk you to your room?" he questioned, his gaze steady on her as she stumbled out into the corridor.

Trish snorted, tossing blonde hair over her shoulder.

"I got two legs," she assured him rather arrogantly. She paused, turning to face him. A giggle slipped from her lips as she caught a glimpse of him clinging to the wall. "You aren't look' too hot yourself, Orton. Sure you don't need me to walk _you_?" She was drunk, but not drunk enough to lose her sense of sarcasm.

Randy shook his head weakly, but soon his trademark smirk covered up any signs of intoxication. He let go of the wall, approaching Trish so that they now walked arm by arm.

"You know I have to walk you regardless," he said after a brief silence, looking down at her. "A gentleman never lets a lady wander to her room alone."

Trish was quick to respond, "Aw, Randy. You're not a gentleman." She smiled sweetly at him.

Randy nodded, accepting the insult. It certainly wasn't the first time he heard that line thrown in his direction.

"Okay, okay," he said, placing his hands in the air. "But to be fair, you weren't exactly drinkin' like a lady, Champ."

Trish simply nodded in agreement, cracking a smile. She decided to allow Randy to accompany her the rest of the way. Unlike most wrestlers she encountered in her career, he was good company. Out of pure curiosity, Trish pulled her phone out along the way. When she checked the time, her jaw hung open. She knew she had spent a long time at the bar with Randy, but she hadn't expected it to be after five in the morning.

A tiny bit of guilt whirled through her nerves. John would be waking up in a matter of minutes. She had completely forgotten about their argument earlier. She frowned, wondering what his reaction would be when she stumbled into their room drunk at 5:30 in the morning. Especially after the way she'd left.

Then again, he completely blew her off. She waited patiently for him, as she always did. And John couldn't spare an hour or two for her. Besides, _he_ was the one who suggested she go out alone in the first place. She wouldn't feel bad for the time she spent with Randy. It was nice to have a man's attention for a night, even if it was just friendly attention. She glanced up again, and the two shared a small smile.

"Well, my room's here," she said, gesturing to her left. She came to a slow stop, and Randy did the same. The pair fell into a silence, standing side by side in the equally still hallway. Trish's lips curled into a playful grin, smacking him on the arm. "Thanks for the company, Orton."

Randy flashed her a tooth-baring grin, reaching for her hand and giving it a friendly squeeze.

"Any time, Champ," he replied, with a fact. "In fact, next time you wanna get plastered and spend a night talkin' shit on people, gimmie a call." She nodded in response, and Randy waved goodbye and went on his way. She paused momentarily, watching him disappear around a corner. She let out a yawn as she reached into purse and fished around for her room key.

As she made her way inside and closed the door, Trish immediately took notice of John's jacket, which had been carelessly flung over a chair the night before. Her heart warmed as she tossed her purse to the table, kicking her shoes off as well. A long night out was just what she needed. Now, she wanted nothing more then to crawl in bed and wake her man up. Her feet padded across the carpet to the bedroom, her gaze falling when she entered.

Trish observed the empty bed, lonely sheets sprawled across the mattress and hanging on to the floor. She checked her phone again. John wasn't supposed to wake up for another half hour. Her heart sank when she peered into the bathroom, discovering that it too had been abandoned.

She sighed, heading out into the kitchen area. A folded piece of paper on the counter caught her eye. She roamed over and examined it, picking it up when she saw that it was addressed to her.

_Trish – _

_Hope you're not too heated about last night. I was wicked tired and I know I was testy, and I'm sorry. I'm going to the gym so I can get a work out in before the appearances. I'll call you._

_Love you,  
John_

_By the way… don't make plans for dinner. We're goin' out tonight._

Trish smiled, pressing the paper to her heart. The thoughtful gesture was enough to decimate the anxiety she felt moments earlier. Placing the note back on the counter, she wandered back into the bedroom. After quickly changing into sweatpants – a task that nearly caused her to fall over – Trish collapsed into the bed John left unmade.

Her eyes closed immediately as she snuggled up to the pillows, pulling the covers over her body. She laid still for several minutes, listening to the soud of her steady breaths. A mixture of content, exhaustion, and alcohol lulled her into a deep sleep…


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in my updates. Last month was crazy with school and exams and everything. By the end of this month, I should be updating everything regularly. Thank you guys for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Here's the start of the John-Trish action I promised...**

Romance was not John Cena's specialty. Wine and roses were usually substituted with beer and popcorn. His idea of a romantic night was playing an intense game of air hockey at a local arcade. And though to the public he was a smooth talker, he sometimes stumbled over his words during a private conversation with a beautiful woman. He wasn't into fancy dinners. He was into sports bars.

But tonight was an exception. Tonight, he would swallow every ounce of macho pride in him. He was going to turn the night into a spectacle. Expensive restaurant, fine wine, candlelit table in a secluded corner. And probably the biggest sacrifice of all – a wardrobe change. The usual denim shorts and throwback jersey were tossed aside, replaced by black slacks and a navy button-down shirt. The Converse sneakers were transformed into polished black shoes.

And as John observed himself in the mirror, he shook his head. "I look like I just stepped outta Orton's closet," he muttered to himself, smirking. The metrosexual look certainly wasn't his thing, but he'd deal. Just for tonight.

"Wow," he heard Trish's voice behind him. John turned to face her, smiling when he noticed her amazed expression. He tilted his head expectantly. Trish nodded her approval, "Someone cleans up nice."

She stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a short black dress, complete with strappy heels. Her blonde hair was slightly curled, falling elegantly over her shoulders. John's mouth fell open, going dry as he admired her. Upon noticing the wide-eyed gaze he held on her, Trish smiled and twirled around, showing off the rest of her outfit.

"Beautiful," John mumbled, nodding his appreciation. He moved towards her, unconsciously licking his lips. Strong hands were placed on her hips. When Trish tilted her head back to see him, John dipped his head down and pressed his mouth to hers. When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "Lets skip dinner," he said, winking suggestively.

He kissed her again, this time much more deeply. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she accepted it gratefully. She returned the kiss fervently, her hands clasping around the back of his neck. Soon after, however, she broke the kiss and shook her head, willing her body to calm down.

"No, no," she insisted, though her tone wasn't quite convincing. Truthfully, she would be content to stay locked up in their room all night. But their reservations were already placed. And she was not going to pass up the opportunity to drag John out in a pair of slacks. Still, a sexy gleam filled her dark eyes. "Dinner first… then dessert."

John groaned, but he smiled at the promise. Giving her one more small kiss, he took her hand in his and headed for the door. Trish paused by the mirror, giving herself a last minute hair and makeup check. He stood behind her, still gripping her hand. He watched both of their reflections, a small smile touching his lips. They looked like they stepped right off the red carpet of an A-list movie premiere.

Giving her hand a squeeze, John pulled her away from the mirror. "Baby, we are gonna own that restaurant."

* * *

Eventually, John eased into the role of social debutant. Sort of. It didn't help that, from the moment they stepped into the "fine dining establishment," Trish was bombarded with an insane fit of giggles. And by the time the maitre d' took their order in a phony accent, neither could keep a straight face. They turned the experience into one long joke, folding their napkins into shapes and delicately sipping their glasses of wine with their pinkies extended out. When a plate of hordeurves was placed in her face, Trish burst into laughter, prompting the puzzled and slightly annoyed waiter to walk away without even offering the tray to John. 

"Baby, you're gonna get us kicked out," John whispered, hunching over the table.

When her laughter subsided, Trish shook her head. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. A grin still lit up her face. "I guess I'm more of a beer-at-a-sports-bar kinda chick." John's gaze grew tentative, and Trish bit her lip. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "But this is all very sweet of you. I appreciate the effort."

John flashed her a grin, running his thumb over the back of her hand. His eyes dropped down, staring at the empty plate beneath him.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said, lifting his gaze up.

Trish shook her head, releasing his hand and throwing hers in the air. "Don't be," she insisted. "I was too pushy. I should've just let you rest…"

"I know, but still, you were right about some things. This CD shit is big, but it isn't everything. You're the most important thing in the world to me. I miss you, and I plan to make as much time as possible for you and me," he assured her.

Trish smiled, but didn't speak. A moment later, John reached into his pocket, retrieving a long, slender black box. "Just another apology," he said, offering the box to her.

Trish hesitated, but shortly after she accepted the gift, opening it eagerly. Her eyes lit up as she pulled a gorgeous diamond-encrusted necklace from the box, letting it dangle between her fingers.

"John," she breathed, her brown eyes widening. "This is _beautiful_." She stared in awe at the necklace, secretly wondering how much a piece of jewelry like that must've cost. "You didn't have to do this…"

He sent her a bashful look, rising from his seat. He paused behind her chair and stooped down, snatching the necklace from her grasp. Brushing her blonde locks to the side, he positioned the necklace in front of Trish, clasping it behind her neck. After setting her hair back over her shoulders, John returned to his seat. She stared at him lovingly, placing a hand over her necklace as the waiter returned with their meals.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: As always, your support of this story means the world to me. This chapter is entirely devoted to John and Trish, and I really hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review!**

Chapter 7  
Trish had always prided herself on being the girl who wasn't fazed by diamonds. Someone who could not be won over by a piece of flashy jewelry. But receiving that gorgeous necklace from John caused her heart to swell.

They had since returned to the hotel, John heading to the bathroom to, "piss out that nasty French wine." Trish stood before the mirror, admiring the shimmering necklace hanging loosely in front of her. She touched the delicate chain gently, the reflection of the room light putting a sparkle in her eyes. She was so enthralled by the beautiful gift that she didn't hear John slip out of the bathroom. His heart warmed as he watched his girlfriend staring at the gift he so carefully selected for her. He drug Marc into every jewelry store in Boston in search of the perfect gift for Trish.

With a smile on his face, he snuck up behind her, arms snaking around her waist. John dropped a kiss on her neck before resting his head on her shoulder. "Beautiful," he murmured as he admired the reflection in the mirror.

Trish nodded in agreement, her hands finding his. "It really is," she replied, tangling her fingers between his much larger ones.

John shook his head, "I wasn't talking about the necklace…"

She knew he was trying to be sweet, but Trish could not hold back a laugh. She let go of his hands and turned to face him, his arms still locked around her. "Smooth, baby. Very smooth," she insulted playfully.

John released her and stepped back, becoming suddenly aware of the shot she took at him. He sent her a dirty look, but it was laced with a smile. "Damn, Trish. Way to kill my game," he said. He pretended to be upset, walking away in a huff. "What's a guy gotta do to get in someone's pants these days?"

Trish smiled at his attempt to be angry. She followed him to the bed, on which he very dramatically threw himself. She paused by the side of the bed, sending him a look.

"Come on, Cena, what kinda girl do you think I am?" she questioned, shaking her head in disbelief. "It takes more then a one liner to get into these pants." John pouted miserably, sitting up. His feet hit the floor with a thud and he looked up. His eyes lit when he locked gazes with Trish. A dark, sexy, I'm-about-to-fuck-your-brains-out look filled her chocolate orbs. He waved a finger at her, beckoning her to him. Trish stepped between his parted knees, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Lucky for you," she started, her voice low, "…I'm not wearing pants tonight."

John grinned, licking his lips as the excitement of anticipation took over him. He leaned towards her, and Trish met him halfway, their lips locking in a searing kiss. John fought to contain a groan as she straddled his lap, forcing her tongue into his mouth. His fingers curled through her hair as he tilted her head back, gaining his own tongue easier access to her mouth.

John broke the kiss, only to move his lips to her neck. Taking the skin between his lips, he bit gently – just hard enough to earn a gasp. Trish leaned back, exposing more area as he dragged his tongue downward, leaving a moist trail.

Trish sighed, her eyes closing contentedly. This was exactly what she needed. A night of passion to help her forget her friends' stupid comments…

She ran her nails through the short hairs on the back of John's head as his lips traveled further down, his tongue dipping between her cleavage. Unconsciously, Trish rolled her hips, earning a surprised moan from her boyfriend. Pleased with the effect it had on him, she repeated her action, this time slower, feeling him harden beneath her.

In one swift movement, John lifted Trish up and threw her on the bed, hovering over her. His hands immediately went for the hem of her dress. Very slowly, almost as if to tease himself, he raised the garment over her head and dropped it beside them. Trish drew him to her, kissing him hard on the lips. John deepened the kiss, his hand traveling down her curves till it rested on her hip, while his free hand came down to massage her breast. Trish smiled at the feeling of his hands on her, pleased in knowing that it had the same effect on him as it did her.

A minute later she broke the kiss, ignoring his disappointed expression. "You have way too many clothes on," she noted, reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

John sat up, finishing the task for her. He tossed the blue shirt to the floor, silently vowing to never wear the ridiculous item again. Trish pulled his face to hers again, then ran her fingers down the smooth skin of his back. John reached behind her, expertly unclasping and removing her bra.

He sat back a little and nodded appreciatively as his eyes wandered over her incredibly toned body. As if the sight of her near naked body beneath him wasn't enough of a turn on, Trish's hand snaked forward, touching him through the thin material of his slacks. Trish bit her lip, her lust-filled eyes staring into his as she rubbed him at a torturously slow pace. His erection becoming painfully hard, John hurried her along, moving her hand to the button of his pants.

"Too many clothes, remember?" he reminded her with a lusty grin.

Trish returned the smile, tiny fingers pulling apart the button and sliding down the zipper. John maneuvered the slacks off, discarding them to the floor. Resting his weight on his elbows, he laid on top of her, crushing his lips on hers. They stayed that way for a long while, mouths and hands roaming.

She felt his hand slip between her legs, and a guttural moan escaped her. She was quick to come to his aid when his free hand reached for the strap of her black thong, yanking it down hastily. The second her panties fell to the floor, they went after John's, quickly removing his boxers as well.

John positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes clouding over in his heightened state of arousal. Trish sent him a pleading look, pulling at his hips. John smirked, pressing his forehead to hers as he pushed into her. Trish gasped as he filled her, her eyes closing at the sensation. Noticing the expression on her face, a devilish smile curled his lips. He pulled out of her, laughing to himself as he eyes shot open and she stared him down.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she asked, her tone dropping considerably. She lifted her hips toward him, falling back with a grunt when he didn't match her movement.

John laughed, "Just teasin', baby." He kissed her, muffling the moan that slipped from her mouth as he pushed himself all the way inside of her. He quickly found a rhythm, rocking his hips against hers. "Trish… you feel so good…" he told her, slowing his pace a little.

Her response was a whimper, which quickly turned into a loud moan as John kicked his pace up a notch. Her nails dug into the skin of his back as she thrust her hips upward, increasing the friction between them. Her hips rose from the mattress, allowing him to plunge deeper into her. Trish gripped his arms tightly, reveling in the pleasure coursing through her body. "Right there," she muttered as he hit her spot. "Just… like that."

John sped up again, pushing Trish over the edge in a matter of minutes. She called his name loudly as she came, her body shaking at its intensity. He followed soon after, burying his face in her neck as he released himself in her. A moment later, his body fell limp on top of her, both individuals gasping for air.

The room fell silent as the spent pair lay tangled in a mix of sheets and limbs. John rested his head on Trish's collarbone, her fingers softly playing with his hair. His eyes lingered around the room, resting on the alarm clock. He had to be up in three hours. Back to reality.

He sighed, but his concerns dissipated when he glanced up at the woman holding him. She was obviously battling sleep, dozing in and out of consciousness. She looked so beautiful, her blonde hair spread across the pillow, a smile on her kiss-swollen lips. Spending a night with Trish was more then worth the sleep he was going to lose.

A smile touched his lips as he carefully lifted his head, drawing her out of her trance. He moved to her ear, whispering quietly, "I love you so much, Trish." She turned slightly, returning his affection with a soft, slow kiss.

"I love you more," came her sleepy reply.

He kissed her once more, and returned to his original resting place. He locked his arms around her waist, hugging her protectively. Soon, their breathing became steady, the couple drifted to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms.


End file.
